


From Ancient Grudge

by femmenoire



Category: Still Star-Crossed (TV)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-11 10:15:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11146371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femmenoire/pseuds/femmenoire
Summary: On Rosaline and Benvolio's wedding night, three hearts join together.





	1. Oh, My Soul

Rosaline had asked for a few moments alone. 

When the door closed behind her, even the sound of the lock turning gave her some peace. She pressed her back against the door, closed her eyes and took deep breaths; willing her heart to slow. 

The past two days had gone by in a rush. She could hardly remember anything of note. 

Except that she was now a Montague. 

And the look of anger and sorrow in Escalus’ eyes. 

She had stared at him as she’d walked down the aisle. She told herself that she didn’t care how he felt, she wanted him to see her anger and betrayal. She wanted him to know that this was his fault. That he had done this to her. 

And Escalus…. Prince Escalus (because this was not the boy that she had loved once upon a time), had only stared back at her with dead eyes. 

But, as she walked back down the aisle, away from him, she’d turned to see him one last time before she consummated this union. And she’d seen it, for just a split second, her Escalus. The man who’d loved her once. And loved her still. 

And it broke something in her that she’d tried to will away ever since he’d told her that she would have to marry Benvolio. A Montague. 

Now that she was finally alone, she slid down the door to the hard, cold stone floor, tears streaming down her face and mourned all that she had lost. Her parents, her cousin, her freedom (however circumscribed it might have been) and… even though she hated to admit it, her first love. 

***  
Benvolio had never been a boy with many choices. 

After his parents died, he’d been lucky enough to be taken in by his aunt and uncle. His situation could have been a hard one, but his aunt was kind, his uncle was indifferent and his cousin was his whole world. He learned his place in the Montague household quickly, Romeo’s friend and protector, and he took up his duties with zeal. 

He knew someday he would have to marry to help build his family’s name or fortune, or both. But Romeo was the heir. It was his marriage that would matter most. Benvolio had only wanted to find a politically advantageous marriage for his family with someone that he could love, for himself. 

But ever since Romeo’s death, much had changed in his life. 

He ascended the stairs slowly, hoping to stave off the future a few seconds at a time.

He could think of no worse future for himself than to be married to a woman who could never love him. 

Except, of course, a future without Romeo. 

***

Escalus had always been a dreamer. 

Isabella was harder, practical, prepared. Had she been a boy their father would certainly had named her as heir. 

And that would have been perfectly fine with Escalus. 

But she wasn’t. And so they had both come to accept long ago that her lot in life would be to marry advantageously and his was to rule. 

Their parents had always made clear to them that their royal lot was sacrifice and strength. His father had always focused on the strength necessary to keep the other noble families in line, especially the Capulets and Montagues. 

His mother, on the other hand, had tried to prepare him for all that he would have to sacrifice. He had thought he understood her lessons, but only today, while watching the woman he loved marry another, did he fully grasp what she’d meant. 

He looked around his wrecked quarters (furniture smashed, bedding torn) and wondered if his mother had known, even then, how much he loved Rosaline. 

***

Rosaline wondered what her mother would have said to her on this day. What sage advice would her mother have given her eldest daughter, a noble-servant in her father’s elder brother’s house, forced to marry a man she did not love?

A man who was not Escalus. 

She closed her eyes, as she had often done in the years since her mother had died of a broken heart, and tried to re-imagine the sound of her mother’s voice. 

His breathing interrupted her. 

“Can you be quiet,” she said with a sneer. 

Benvolio looked genuinely shocked that she had spoken to him and then angry at her words. 

“I haven’t spoken a word since I came here, wife.” He somehow managed to spit the last word at her like an accusation. As if any of this was her fault. 

“You breathe loudly,” she replied coldly.

“I breathe loudly! Well what would you have me do? Would you like me to hold my breath until I fall unconscious, Capulet? Would that make it easier for you to pretend that I’m not here?”

Whatever retort Rosaline was about to hurl at him died on her lips when the door to their chamber was unlocked and Prince Escalus walked into their rooms. 

“My lord,” she said instead. Her skin flushed. 

***

Escalus had gone to Venice and learned the lessons his father wanted him to know. 

It hadn’t all been good or high-minded. He’d seen corrupt nobles who robbed from their subjects. He’d seen husbands who kissed their wives’ hands at court only to send them to the countryside so that they could parade their mistresses around, treating them, for all intents and purposes, as legitimate. He’d even seen the most brutish, physically violent men wielding power, legitimizing their cruelty by casting it as God’s divine will. 

And he’d vowed, as he was sure his father intended, that he would never be one of them. He would be better: moral, true, above reproach. He would be like his father and put Verona’s needs above his own. 

Or, at least, that was his plan before he’d come home and been forced, through the vicious rivalry between the Capulets and Montagues, to wed his beloved to another man. 

Watching Rosaline wed Benvolio had broken him in a way nothing had before. He was a new man. 

Or at least that was what he told himself as he walked towards their rooms and ordered their room unlocked. The voice was faint, but he could still hear it reverberating in his head as he stood before them. 

They bowed and curtsied and he realized that this was the moment. He could impress upon them how important it was that their marriage succeed or he could do what he’d planned. 

In the end it wasn’t just the sight of Rosaline, her eyes big and bright (and, at least for a moment not filled with hate) and her skin glowing in the candlelight, that convinced him. 

He was just as moved by the small glance that Benvolio snuck at Rosaline, his eyes darting to his left to take her in.

It was in that moment that Escalus realized that he could give up Rosaline if she married a man who would love and protect her. She might hate Escalus forever. But if she was loved and happy, it would all be worth it. 

“As you both know,” Escalus said, happy that his voice didn’t betray his uncertainty, “the marriage of Capulet and Montague is the only way to broker peace between both houses. And so I am here to make sure that that peace comes to…fruition.” 

There was a moment of silence before Rosaline spoke. Her voice was shaky but still managed to be clear and strong. “What do you mean, my lord.” She spat the last two words at him. 

He looked at her then. His heart beat faster. He swallowed before speaking. He didn’t use his princely voice, but in dismissing it he remembered all the times they’d made fun of his own father for putting on his official voice. 

Instead, he trained his gaze on her and used his regular speaking voice (soft and familiar), hoping she would respond. 

“I have loved you my entire life, Rosaline Capulet. If you had been from any house in Verona or,” his voice broke, “from anywhere but Verona, tonight would be our wedding night. But you are a Capulet and he,” he tilted his head but did not tear his gaze from hers, “is a Montague. This is for the good of Verona. But I love you still.”

He took a deep breath and watched her reaction. When she didn’t lunge toward him in violence, he figured it was relatively safe to continue. 

“I cannot, no matter what I desire, be your husband. But I can make it clear to him,” and here he did turn his gaze to Benvolio, hard and princely, “that you are the love of my life; forever precious to me. And if he would like to live, he will love you as I would love you.”

There was a tense moment between Escalus and Benvolio before the latter spoke. “And how, my lord, would you love her?”

“The problem with Capulets and Montagues is that they believe themselves superior to everyone, including me.” Escalus could hear his father’s words in his head. He had, in fact, been hoping for just this challenge from Benvolio. But it was only one piece of the puzzle. For this to happen he would need Rosaline’s acceptance.   
As ever, Rosaline was as quick and intelligent as she was surprising. 

Her voice was breathy and it made his loins ache. 

“Yes, my lord, how would you love me?”

 

 

 

***  
Soundtrack: Meiko "Oh My Love"


	2. Warm Enough

Under normal circumstances Escalus would have been embarrassed. 

But these times were anything but normal. 

He’d spent his entire life imagining that Rosaline would be his wife. That one day this would be their wedding night. 

In many ways his imagination had been accurate. 

Her breath hitched when he began to undo the many straps at her back. Her exposed skin was warm and he couldn’t help but rub his knuckles against every new inch as her dressed loosened. 

She smelled like flowers. 

He wanted to kiss her there but-

“My lord.” Benvolio’s voice was hard, angry, maybe a bit jealous. Escalus couldn’t blame him. He felt all of those things at realizing that he would have to share Rosaline. That, in fact, it was he who should not be here. But he tamped down on those feelings, took a deep breath and lightly pressed his lips against her bare back before raising his eyes to meet the other man’s. 

“You come back here,” he said, his voice even. Benvolio came to stand beside him. He didn’t touch her, but Escalus could see the other man’s hands twitching with need. He understood that feeling as well. Escalus placed a hand on Rosaline’s shoulder. She turned to look at him. Her eyes were big, warm, hungry. Escalus smiled, thinking of how many times he’d dreamt of her looking at him in this exact way. “What would you have him do,” Escalus queried. 

“I want him to finish undressing me, my lord.” Her voice was strong, full of lust. 

“You heard your wife, Montague,” Escalus said, but didn’t bother to tear his eyes away from hers. As Benvolio began to undo her dress, Rosaline hugged her bodice close to her chest. Escalus had to remind himself to be patient. He’d waited years, what was a few more minutes? 

Rosaline tilted her head up, her mouth searching for his. He was happy to oblige. She moaned when he slipped his tongue between her lips. He pulled back suddenly and held her gaze. “And what will you have me do, Lady?”

Rosaline had been a precocious child, “wicked” her own mother had often called her, teasingly of course. So Escalus found something comforting about the small smirk on her face. 

“I would have you… undress for me,” she replied.

***

Rosaline had been raised to be a lady. 

Elocution lessons, dancing lessons, art, music. She had learned all of the skills necessary to make a man of proper rank a dutiful wife. That she had rejected the idea of marriage after her parents died did not matter; she was a Capulet lady still. 

But no one would have thought to prepare her for this moment: her husband’s hands pushing her dress over her hips and her prince unbuckling his long pants in front of her (for her). A lady would never be in this position. 

Benvolio ran a finger up her spine and she shivered. His breath was hot on her neck. His lips brushed along her earlobe as he spoke. “Wife…” His fingers dug into her flesh pleasantly. 

“Husband,” she said, tilting her chin but never taking her eyes off of Escalus as he pulled his shirt over his head. 

Benvolio’s hands spread along her hips, lifting her camisole a fraction. “Shall I continue?”

Rosaline understood the question. The invitation. Shall he continue to undress her? Would she really follow through with this sin? She brought her hands to the hem of her camisole, her fingers brushing his. She finally turned toward her husband. Her eyes focused on his as she lifted the soft silk over her belly, across the hard peaks of her breasts, his hands following the fabric. When she brought it over her head, he turned her around to face him. 

He wanted to kiss her, she could tell, but he was still afraid of her reaction. As was she. 

It was then that Escalus pressed his hard, warm chest against her back. His presence gave her courage. 

She spread her hand on Benvolio’s chest, feeling the hard muscle underneath the soft fabric. She moved her hand to graze her fingers along the skin at his throat. 

“And what about you, Lord Montague? What do you want?”

Rosaline was not surprised when he lowered his mouth to hers. And she was not particularly shocked at how much she liked it when his tongue tangled with hers. She moaned and he deepened the kiss. It was their wedding night after all.

But she was shocked when Escalus brought his mouth to her neck. His lips and tongue and teeth attacked the exposed skin. And there were no words to describe the wetness pooling between her legs when Escalus and Benvolio’s hands tangled at her breasts. 

It was clumsy, wicked, their big hands fighting for dominance and then retreating to one breast apiece. She would never tell Livia of this night, but it was exactly the kind of thing that might have made her younger sister laugh. Their strong fingers were kneading her breasts and pulling at her sensitive nipples. She moaned loudly into Benvolio’s mouth, reaching back to grip the back of Escalus’ head, pulling his mouth closer to her, overjoyed when his hips followed. 

Rosaline had never felt less like a lady in her life. 

And it was wonderful. 

***

Benvolio had become accustomed to not asking for what he wanted. 

His uncle’s household provided for his needs. But the difference between want and need could, at times, feel leagues apart. For instance, marrying for love was a reality his uncle refused to acknowledge. He assumed, like many men before him, that a willing wife must be better than a paid prostitute. But Benvolio remembered the way his father had looked at his mother. He even remembered the way Lord Montague used to indulge his late wife. He knew the difference between a marriage of convenience and a love match. So he chose not to confuse himself (or his loins). Stella did not love him. Nor he her. The transaction at the local brothel was clean and, even in its emptiness, comforting in its clarity. 

But this was different. Rosaline was different. 

The taste of her on his tongue reminded him of dreams he had long ago decided were too much to hope for. 

She was naked, spread across their marital bed. He had kissed his was down her torso, stopping to blow on her sex while she squirmed in Escalus’ arms. She whimpered and the sound made his dick hard, his balls hanging heavy between his legs. 

This was one of the pleasures that he had denied himself before now. He swiped his tongue across Rosaline’s sex, sucking her nub into his mouth. It was too expensive, you see, to focus on his partner. He paid to reach his own climax, no matter how enthusiastic she pretended to be, he knew that his partner’s release was a luxury that he, as Lord Montague’s nephew and not (until recently) his heir, literally could not afford. 

“Please, my lord,” she whispered to him, as he played at her entrance with his index finger. 

But taking his time, savoring the taste of her, his wife, teasing her and himself (and their Prince) was a luxury he could never have imagined before tonight. So he took his time. Sucking fast and then slow, teasing her with one finger and then a second, before replacing his wet mouth with a rough thumb, applying just enough pressure to make her back arch from their marital mattress. 

Benvolio locked eyes with Prince Escalus. 

It should have been strange, sharing his and Rosaline’s marital bed with another man, especially a man whom Benvolio was pragmatic enough to understand Rosaline loved more than him. 

But it wasn’t. 

It felt comfortable. Safe.

Partly because he knew that, were it not for their Prince, Rosaline would have consigned him to a settee alone while she occupied their marital bed alone. But there was also a part of Benvolio that understood Rosaline’s love for their prince. He was noble, good hearted, intelligent and much more thoughtful than Verona deserved. 

And he was beautiful. 

The sight of Escalus, naked, Rosaline resting against his chest, his hands pinching and pulling at her nipples made Benvolio’s already hard dick more rigid between his legs. He ached with need. 

There were so many things that Benvolio had denied himself. 

***

Escalus was no fool. 

While in Venice he had learned how important it was not to lie to himself. He could deceive everyone else in his life, but if he lied to himself, then he was doomed. 

So he knew that this was not for Verona. 

Rosaline was tight as all ladies should be on their wedding night. But few ladies, he imagined, opened themselves so fully to their husbands, let alone their prince, on their wedding night. 

Escalus had never shared a woman before. And he’d never expected to have to share Rosaline. So it was a foreign sensation to push into Rosaline from the rear, sliding along the thin fabric of skin separating him from Benvolio. 

They all moaned in unison. 

They lay on their sides. His body was pressed against Rosaline’s backside, where he’d buried himself, fighting back the urging pulsation of his release. While Benvolio, Rosaline’s leg thrown across his hip, had buried himself in her front. 

“Wait,” she whispered. Her word, their command. Escalus was ever hers and, he was relieved to find, so was Benvolio. 

Her walls pulsed around them, massaging them slowly as she fought to adjust and accept them both fully inside herself.

“I feel,” her voice was labored and her words slow to fall from her lips as she began to squirm on them, “so full. So…”

The silence stretched until Escalus let the word fall from his lips. He could accept that tonight was likely to be the only time he would ever be with Rosaline the way he wanted. He could accept losing her as his ultimate sacrifice to the city of Verona. But he would never accept that she should ever mistake her importance to him. 

“Loved,” he said, his lips pressed against her temple. 

He was shocked to find his words echoed in the Montague’s voice. “You are loved, Lady Rosaline. We… love you.”

They began to move as if in queue. Escalus moved in and, as he rocked his hips backward, he felt the sensation of Benvolio moving forward. Rosaline’s moans were deep and full of lust; a lust they were both equally eager to sate. 

They started fast and then, at her command, faster and deeper. 

When Benvolio moved to grip Escalus’ waist for better leverage a dam broke for all of them. 

They became a singular body of sweat-soaked flesh and guttural moans as they writhed against one another. 

All for her.

***

Rosaline couldn’t get enough of their heated skin pressed against hers; their hands digging into her skin. She twisted her neck, wanting to taste Escalus’ tongue and was rewarded with Benvolio’s teeth nipping gently at her neck. 

She was not prepared for any of this and thankfully her brain had long since ceased to sound the alarm of her impending moral doom. If this is what the road to hell felt like, she would travel it again and again. 

With them. 

***

He was well past thinking. Nothing else mattered but her heart beating fast against her chest, so hard he could feel it (his front pressed against hers); his fingers digging into Escalus’ hip. 

Nothing mattered but the three of them sharing this moment, these sensations, together. 

It was the sight of their tongues, tangling, in a wet kiss. 

Benvolio leaned forward, no longer timid or unsure. They were together, the three of them. This experience was theirs to share, equally. 

If either Rosaline or Escalus was surprised to feel his mouth crash into their kiss, they did not show it. Instead they adjusted and made room for him, Rosaline sighed contentedly as Benvolio’s tongue joined their game, and Escalus reached up to grip the back of Benvolio’s head pulling him deeper. 

When Rosaline came, wet, pressed between her husband and her lover, she hummed into their kiss. 

Escalus followed her soon after, one hand gripping Rosaline’s breast, the other holding Benvolio’s mouth fast to his and Rosaline’s. 

Soon there was only Benvolio, pumping himself into Rosaline, gliding along Escalus. 

Slowly. 

Happy. 

Sated. 

Whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack: Halsey "Eyes Closed"


End file.
